Lune
by The Clock Strikes Thirteen
Summary: We all have a muse, his was named Luna. She was there before it all began and she will be there until the very end; this was her promise, but oaths mean nothing when your heart is broken. OC/Gringoire/Esmeralda.
1. Chapter 1: L'histore de Luna

**A/N: This is more of an impulse-write and I doubt it will get many, if any, reviews, but I will attempt to think positively.**

** Okay, today's chapter was written while listening to the Le Temps des Cathédrales as sung by Bruno Pelletier. Go listen to it if you haven't already because he is fabulous.**

** I will provide a full translation of any and all French spoken in this chapter and the chapters to come in the footnotes below. **

**Also, I will be messing with Gringoire's back story a tiny bit. I'm so sorry. **

* * *

**_Chapter One: L'histore de Luna_**

The bells ring loud and clear to signal the wedding of unknown but happy lovers, the beautiful sound is carried on the wind to the ears of a young man and woman perhaps five years his junior walking side by side down one of the cobblestone streets of Paris.

A smile is on the lips of the lady, painted red as blood, and her cheeks are flushed pink. The man watches her with curiosity, as if taking notes on her happiness with his eyes.

They come to a flock of geese blocking their path and the young woman looks to her companion eagerly.

"Oh Pierre, may I?" She asks and her smile widens when he nods. She then turns toward the road once more, lifting up the hem of her white skirt and running towards the birds. They squawk and take flight, landing at a safe distance as she laughs and spins around. The man shakes his head but cannot deny himself a light smile as he watches her spin around.

"That's enough, _mon cher._" He says in a stern voice that makes her smile fall. She walks closer to him and then notices the laughter that dances in his eyes and her grin returns. She takes his hand, leading him down the remainder of the street.

"Are we almost there?" She asks and he nods.

"Not much farther." He replies and she makes a small noise of excitement and walks a little bit faster, encouraging him to do the same.

Not a few moments later, the man named Pierre and his companion rounds an alley corner, coming face to face with La Notre Dame. The young woman's mouth hangs open like an unhinged basket as she drinks in the sight of the magnificent and Holy place. Her gray eyes never leave the wondrous structure of stone and glass as her companion leads her towards the large steps.

The man named Pierre sits down on the third step from the top and places his hand on the one just above. His friend copies him.

"It was here, Luna. Here is where I found you." She nods, no sign on sadness on her face. "It was nearly twenty years ago, in the middle of winter. I was just a boy, you know. No older than perhaps eight or nine." The woman nods, brushing a stray lock of auburn curls behind her ear.

"Yes Pierre, I know, you have told me this many times." The man feigns offense and puts a hand to his heart as if he is in pain.

"Are you tired of this story, Luna?" He asks in a hurt voice and her eyes widen. She shakes her head quickly and takes his other hand in hers.

"I could never tire of it brother! You have my apology!" She says and Pierre abandons the hurt facade, smile playing on his lips as he squeezes her hand back lightly.

"I am only teasing you, Luna. Yet I accept your apology none the less." Luna lets a breath that she was holding escape her lungs.

"Thank you." When he ceases to continue, she moves a little bit closer to her adopted sibling. "Would you please finish?" She asks and he nods.

"With pleasure, _Mademoiselle._" She giggles lightly at his tone and grasps his hand once more as he begins.

* * *

_It was winter. It was cold. The sun had gone to sleep many hours before as I ran through the streets of a half-frozen Paris. The homeless around me begged for whatever they needed, mostly money, but I had none to spare. I watched them with sad eyes as they shrunk back into the shadows of the alleys where the cheerful lamps could shed no light. _

_I turned back towards the road and continued my way towards my house, if you could call it that. I had not had a proper home for nearly three years and I was well accustomed to the street life.  
_

_But, as I passed La Notre Dame on the way, I happened to glance towards the steps. I paused when I heard the smallest, meekest cry, like that of a kitten in pain. I grew curious to know what could be making such a mournful sound. I walked slowly toward the cathedral and you could imagine my surprise when I saw that it came from a very young girl of no more than three years sitting near the doors of Notre Dame.  
_

_Her hair was mangled and could've been red if it wsn't so dirty. Her eyes were abnormally large and the color of the moon that shone at its fullest above our heads in the icy sky. I asked her name, she said she did not know. I named her Luna. _

_I gave her my coat and asked where her Mama was, she said she did not know that either. To me, this girl was unlike the other _sans abri _that inhabited Paris, she was special.  
_

___I looked down to her hand that was still clenched in mine to see that her white flesh was turning a pale blue, which made my heart skip a beat. I took her hand and helped her stand. I cursed softly as I noticed she had no coat and immediately offered her mine. I did not know why I was doing this, as I had seen so many poor children freeze to death outside in the snow banks, but for some reason, I refused to let the same fate befall_ _mon Luna. ____  
_

_She followed me as I led her towards the large doors of La Notre Dame. I raised a fist and knocked on the curved pieces of wood so that my hand began to hurt just a bit. I looked back to the small girl and noticed her shivering. I raised my fist to knock once more but did not get the chance. _

_The door swung open to reveal a small, portly man; the Archdeacon. He would help, I hoped. I knew the man, not very well but I saw him once or twice when I preformed my songs and told stories before the large cathedral. I was sure he liked my work; he made no attempt to chase me off when I sang. _

_"Sanctuary." I said as soon as he set eyes on me. He looked to the young girl whose hand was still clenched in mine and ushered us in without a sat Luna before the fire and knelt down next to her.  
_

_"Your name, child." He commanded and I spoke before she could. _

_"Luna." He whipped around in shock and then looked back to the little girl. I was surprised when she nodded. _

_"Very well, and her family is where?" He asked me this time and I carelessly shrugged. _

_"I haven't the foggiest, Phillip." I replied truthfully and he looked back to the girl with sad eyes. She did not notice his look of pity; she was too busy running her fingers through the hair of her cloth doll. I hadn't noticed it before. It was homemade and worn from time and love. I approached her slowly, not wanting to frighten her and that was when she turned to look at me._

_"Her name is Yvette." She said. Her moonlit eyes seemed to stare through me. I didn't know what she was talking about, but then I realized she was referring to her doll. _

_I chose not to leave her that night, I wanted to talk to her a bit more, perhaps find out if she had any family. _

_She kept glancing towards the big, wooden doors, as if someone were going to suddenly burst through them. After a few minutes, I asked her what she was looking for, she said her Papa. I asked if she knew who he was and again she replied that she didn't know. It stuck me as odd that she would be looking for a man she did not know, but I did not think about it further as she began to hum.  
_

_"Do you sing?" I asked and she nodded. _

_"Yes, I do." She replied. Growing bored with the silence, I spoke up. _

_"Sing for me, kill the silence that hangs in the air." She nodded and began.  
_

_"**C'est une histoire qui a pour lieu **  
** Paris la belle en l'an de Dieu **  
** Mil-quatre-cent-quatre-vingt-deux **  
** Histoire d'amour et de désir **_

** Nous les artistes anonymes **  
** De la sculpture ou de la rime **  
** Tenterons de vous la transcrire **  
** Pour les siécles à venir **

** Il est venu le temps des cathédrales **  
** Le monde est entré **  
** Dans un nouveau millénaire **  
** L'homme a voulu monter vers les étoiles **  
** Ecrire son histoire **  
** Dans le verre ou dans la pierre **

** Pierre après pierre, jour après jour **  
** De siècle en siècle avec amour **  
** Il a vu s'élever les tours **  
** Qu'il avait bâties de ses mains **

** Les poètes et les troubadours **  
** Ont chanté des chansons d'amour **  
** Qui promettaient au genre humain **  
** De meilleurs lendemains **

** Il est venu le temps des cathédrales **  
** Le monde est entré **  
** Dans un nouveau millénaire **  
** L'homme a voulu monter vers les étoiles **  
** Ecrir son histoire **  
** Dans le verre ou dans la pierre **

** Il est venu le temps des cathédrales **  
** Le monde est entré **  
** Dans un nouveau millénaire **  
** L'homme a voulu monter vers les étoiles **  
** Ecrir son histoire **  
** Dans le verre ou dans la pierre **

** Il est foutu le temps des cathédrales **  
** La foule des barbares **  
** Est aux portes de la ville **  
** Laissez entrer ces païens, ces vandales **  
** La fin de ce monde **  
** Est prévue pour l'an deux-mille **  
** Est prévue pour l'an deux-mille.**"

_I stared at her when she finished. Her voice was adequate but it was the song she sang that caught my attention. It was my song, I had sung it a hundred times before on the very steps I'd found the young girl; I had penned that song from my thoughts of La Notre Dame. _

_"That is my song." I told her and I could not help it; my tone was gruff and accusing. She did not seemed phased by this in the least. _

_"I know." She replied. "I have heard you listen to it many times." I was stunned. _

_"You have?" I asked and she nodded. _

_"It is why I was outside today, I was waiting for you." I took a closer look at her; the matted hair, the dark circles under her eyes, this girl had not been abandoned tonight; she knew she was a street rat. "I would not have moved at all if it were not you who lead me in here." She said and my eyes widened. _

_"But we have never met!" I exclaimed and she only gave me a rather strained smile. _

_"Music is the window to the heart; you have kept yours open for me to look into every time you sang. I know you, Pierre Gringoire." _

* * *

_Footnotes: _

_L'histore- story_

_Mon cher- my dear_

_Mademoiselle- Miss_

_Sans abri- homeless_

_Mon- my_

The song is Le Temps des Cathédrales.

**A/N: I hope that Luna isn't too much of a stalker, but I believe that music is the window to the heart and that you can know someone by just listening to them sing. **


	2. Chapter 2: L'émeute

**A/N: I didn't really expect a response, but thank you Lyn! This story is now for you, seeing as your the only one who's reading it!  
**

**This chapter was written to Lily's theme from Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows part 2. Go and check it out; it's a beautiful piece of music. **

**If you'd like to know what Luna looks like, check out my profile! **

**As usual; the translations are at the bottom with any other important notes. **

**Last but not least; I don't own Notre Dame de Paris.**

_**Chapter Two: L**__**'émeute**_

"What did you say after that?" Luna asks when her brother stops talking.

"I looked at you, and I said: "I know."" Gringoire gives Luna a smile as he straightens up; trying to rid himself of the serious tone in he felt himself in.

"Is that when you took me in?" Luna asks and the Bard nods.

"Yes, that was all it took. Music is a window to the heart, you understood that even if you were young. I knew that you were like me and one doesn't let one of their own kind slip through their fingers so easily." Gringoire wraps an arm around her shoulders and pulls her into a hug; making her smile and sigh.

"I'll never let you go." She replied, making the man laugh.

"I have no reason to believe that you would." He replies. At that moment, a gurgling is heard from Luna's stomach. She blushes, ever the lady, and attempts to hide it but this only makes her brother laugh louder.

"Some one is hungry." He says and Luna makes a face at him.

"What a scholarly observation, brother, but I am not the only one." It is her turn to laugh when he glares at her and then nods.

"You are right, Luna. I think it's time we left." He says and her face falls.

"Will we return?" She asks and he nods, making her smile reappear. "Alright, where shall we go for supper?" She asks but her brother does not reply right away.

"I am afraid, my dear, that our pockets are empty." Gringoire confesses, but Luna merely shrugs and seems unphased by their current financial situation.

"Then, brother, we shall have to sing for our supper." She stands and claps to get the attention of the small crowd. "Attention, attention!" She shouts and turns to glare at her brother when she hears him laughing when no one heeds her call.

"You are terrible at this, Luna." He tells her and she rolls her eyes.

"Must I remind you of the time no one paid any attention to your play?" She says with a smirk and his smile fades. He coughs to diffuse the tension and then stands as well.

"You swore you wouldn't speak of that again." He says in a hushed tone and Luna shrugged.

"Oaths mean nothing when feelings are bruised." She reminds him with a wink and then returns to her mission to claim the attention of the crowd.

Pierre silently laughs at her efforts and when he grows tired of that, he raises his hand to his lips, producing a sharp, loud whistle that echoes throughout the square. Everyone stops their daily lives and turns towards him.

"Very well then, brother." Luna says, pressing her lips into a thin line. "You have their attention, sing your song so that o don't go hungry!" she says with a biting tone and poor Gringoire can't help it; he flinches just a bit.

"Don't be upset, they will notice you one day." he tries to comfort her but she shakes it off.

"_Bien sûr _." she says coldly, going to sit back down.

"_Madams_ and _Monsieurs_, I am here only to entertain. Listen to my song and remember." Luna smiles as she watches her brother cast a spell over the crowd and closes her eyes as he begins to sing the song she loved most of all.

When he is finished the song that she sang for him nearly fifteen years ago, Luna claps along with the rest if the crowd.

Their money box is full enough to get something to eat, but before Luna can leave the square to find food, she notices something.

Standing in the shadows are dozens of _sans abris_, and _les sans papiers_. She knows to be wary of them, and they usually leave her alone, but at that moment, they began to walk out of the darkness and towards Notre Dame.

Lina jumps when someone grabs her hand but relaxes when she sees that it is only Gringoire.

"We must go, Luna." there is fear in his eyes and urgency in his voice. Despite this, Luna is curious.

"Why, Pierre?" She asks and he shakes his head.

"It is an _émeute_, a riot." He replies and Luna's eyes go wide with fear as well.

"Why?" she asks quietly, watching as the street scum approach Notre Dame.

"The Archdeacon, Claude Frollo, the one who succeeded the title from Phillip refuses to grant them asylum. He leaves them to die." Luna shudders at the mention of the new Archdeacon. She did not like him, he had cold eyes and a cruel smile when he watched someone being tortured at _Le Place de Grève_.

"May we watch, brother?" she asks when she hears an angry melody begin to play from the masses.

"It is dangerous." Gringoire warns her and she nods, leading him towards the side if one of the cottages in the square. She scales the side of the home with ease and sits on the thatched roof to get a better view, she encourages her brother to follow.

"That is why I want to watch." she replies. She goes quiet as they begin to sing.

"_**Nous sommes des étrangers**_  
_**Les sans-papiers**_  
_**Des hommes**_  
_**Et des femmes**_  
_**Sans domicile**_  
_**Oh! Notre-Dame**_  
_**Et nous te demandons**_  
_**Asile! Asile!**_

_**Nous sommes**_  
_**Des étrangers**_  
_**Des sans-papiers**_  
_**Des hommes**_  
_**Et des femmes**_  
_**Sans domicile**_  
_**Oh! Notre-Dame**_  
_**Et nous te demandons**_  
_**Asile! Asile!**_

_**Nous sommes plus de mille**_  
_**Aux portes de la ville**_  
_**Et bientôt nous serons**_  
_**Dix mille et puis cent mille**_

_**Nous serons des millions**_  
_**Qui te demanderons**_  
_**Asile!**_  
_**Asile!**_

_**Nous sommes**_  
_**Des étrangers**_  
_**Des sans-papiers**_  
_**Des hommes**_  
_**Et des femmes**_  
_**Sans domicile**_  
_**Oh! Notre-Dame**_  
_**Et nous te demandons**_  
_**Asile! Asile!**_

_**Nous sommes des va-nu-pieds**_  
_**Aux portes de la ville**_  
_**Et la ville est dans l'île**_  
_**Dans l'île de la Cité**_

_**Le monde va changer**_  
_**Et va se mélanger**_  
_**Et nous irons jouer**_  
_**Dans l'île**_

_**Nous sommes**_  
_**Des étrangers**_  
_**Des sans-papiers**_  
_**Des hommes**_  
_**Et des femmes**_  
_**Sans domicile**_

_**Nous sommes**_  
_**Des étrangers**_  
_**Des sans-papiers**_  
_**Des hommes**_  
_**Et des femmes**_  
_**Sans domicile**_

_**Des sans-papiers**_  
_**Sans domicile**_  
_**Nous sommes**_  
_**Des étrangers**_  
_**Des sans-papiers**_  
_**Des hommes**_  
_**Et des femmes**_  
_**Sans domicile**_  
_**Nous sommes**_  
_**Des étrangers**_  
_**Des sans-papiers**_

_**Nous sommes**_  
_**Des étrangers**_  
_**Des sans-papiers**_  
_**Des hommes**_  
_**Et des femmes**_  
_**Sans domicile**_

_**Nous sommes**_  
_**Des étrangers**_  
_**Des sans-papiers**_  
_**Des hommes**_  
_**Et des femmes**_  
_**Sans domicile**_  
_**Oh! Notre-Dame**_  
_**Et nous te demandons**_  
_**Asile! Asile!**_

_**Nous sommes**_  
_**Des étrangers**_  
_**Des sans-papiers**_  
_**Des hommes**_  
_**Et des femmes**_  
_**Sans domicile**_  
_**Oh! Notre-Dame**_  
_**Et nous te demandons**_  
_**Asile! Asile! Asile! Asile**_!"

Luna clings to her adopted brother tightly as she watches the scene in front of her. The music is so angry, so desperate, it breaks her heart.

"Why won't he just let them in?" she asks Pierre in a small voice and he shrugs, squeezing her hand in a comforting way.

"Frollo wants Notre Dame to remain pure, but he is the one who is tainting her." he says in a hushed voice.

Poor Luna gasps when the before mentioned Archdeacon appears on the balcony, surveying the hoards of homeless people beating down the cathedrals' door.

"Sir Phoebus de Châteaupers, Captain of the King's archers, I order you to chase away these illegals!" the dark figure barks in a commanding tone that makes Luna shudder.

She spots a young, handsome man with long, blonde hair in shining silver armor nod.

"At your service, Archdeacon. In the name of God, I will chase from your view these vagrants, these vagabonds!" Luna is disgusted by his words, but she can not deny how attractive he is, how handsome he appears.

"Luna, cease your shameful staring. That man is a monster, he deserves none of the blessings that have been bestowed upon him." Gringoire snaps and Luna nods.

Her mouth falls open when she sees the beautiful man mount his horse and ride towards the poor homeless at top speed. They scatter to avoid the charging animal and its cruel rider and scurry back to their safe, local shadows.

"Now we leave." Gringoire says as he watches Phoebus grab hold of a gypsy girl's wrist.

The tanned, brunette woman looks to Luna and gives her a pleading look as the captain of the guard throws her to the ground. The woman is the most beautiful that either of them have ever seen and when Luna steps forward to help her, Gringoire puts a hand on her shoulder, holding her back.

"But...but..." Luna stutters to her either who shakes his head.

"I cannot risk my Luna being harmed. Come away now, the girl will be fine, I promise you." He says but Luna still glares daggers at him while she whispers an apology to the woman.

"I do not wish to speak to you!" Luna exclaims when the two are at a safe distance from the square.

"Luna" Gringoire says with a warning in his voice.

"No!" she exclaims, cutting him off. "That poor woman, he could have hurt her, he could have defiled her before Notre Dame and that disgusting vulture claiming to be a servant of the Lord and you would have just let it happen!" Luna is seething, her brother has never seen her so angry.

"My Luna, I cannot loose you." Gringoire says in a low voice.

"Why?" Luna asks. "Because I am your muse? How selfish!" Pierre shakes his head, grabbing her wrists and forcing her to face him.

"I cannot loose you because I love you. You are my sister, my companion, and my inspiration." Luna doesn't fight him as he leads her to an inn.

Gringoire pays for their supper with what little money they have and the two eat in silence until Luna strums up the conversation again.

"Where will we sleep?" she asks, knowing that they have run out of money.

"I do not know." he replies.

"I will not sleep at _La Val D'amour_ again." Luna says with anger in her eyes and it is Gringoire's turn to glare.

"It is there or the street, Luna." he says gruffly and his sister makes a noise of annoyance.

"I will gladly claim the street as my bed rather than that foul place of sin." Luna spat. "You enjoy your time there, don't you brother? Taking what you wish from those poor girls." Her tone is murderous and her eyes narrow as he sighs.

"You were listening in." It is not a question, it is a statement.

"It hurts that you would take me to such a place." Luna says in a sad voice, making her brother sigh.

"My Luna," he begins, taking her hand. "I promise you that one day I will be rich enough to buy you a castle that is too big, and I'll furnish it with things you'll never need but have always wanted." Luna smiles lightly and nods.

"Do we still have to sleep at the Cabaret?" She asks and Gringoire shakes his head.

"No, we do not, Luna." This makes her smile brightly and lean across the table to hug him.

"Tomorrow is _La Fète de Fous_, brother. Things will be better than." She tells him and he nods in agreement.

"Things are always better with a celebration."

* * *

Footnotes:

**Translation:**

_L'émeute- _The riot

_Bien sûr- _Of course

_Madams_- Mrs

_Monsieurs_- Sir

_Sans abris_- Homeless

_Les sans papiers_- Undocumented (In the 15th century, it meant to be without passports)

**Locations:**

_Le Place de Grève- _A popular and public spot for torture and execution

_Le Val D'amour- _The fictional brothel that exists in the Notre Dame de Paris Musical

_La Fète de Fous_- A real and widespread celebration from the fifth to the sixteenth century in which a mockery was made of people of upper class by crowning the ugliest man the Pope of Fools.

The song used is Les Sans Papiers.

**A/N: Yay! The musical has officially begun! I will add in my own things though, no worries. I hope that you enjoyed this chapter and will please review!  
**


	3. Chapter 3: La Fête des Fous

**A/N: Hello again, and thank you Lyn! In this chapter, I've made a few changes to the setting/what happens/etc.  
**

**This chapter was written to nothing, as in no song at all. Sorry. **

**As usual, all translations are at the bottom.**

**I do not own Notre Dame de Paris. **

* * *

_**Chapter Three: **_**_La __ Fête_ des Fous  
**

"Luna! _Arrêter_!" Luna does not heed her brother's words and instead runs faster down the empty street. It is the next day and the young woman wants nothing more than to rid herself of the bitter memory of last night which the pair spent carefully hidden in the shadows. She is glad to be free again, running among the populace with the hem of her clean, white dress lifted just enough so she can run. Luna no longer cares what is seen as proper, she chose long ago to live by her own rules.

"I'm not stopping, brother! Save your breath, you shall need it to catch me!" She calls carelessly over her shoulder. Her remark is followed closely by a bark of laughter as she jumps over a small puddle formed from the rain that fell a few days ago.

They are on their way to _La Fête des Fous_, a festival that Gringoire is so curiously presiding over. Luna wondered just how he was able to obtain such a position when he announced it to her last week, and then she thought about that question a bit more and wisely decided that she would rather not know.

"Ha ha!" Gringoire laughs triumphantly when he is at a close enough distance to hook his arms around his sister's middle and stop her from running any further. "You are no longer allowed to run, Luna." He tells her with a wink. She glowers at him for a little bit and then caves in and smiles as he leads her towards La Place de Grève.

Gringoire is used to the horrible place, but his sister is not. She crunches the gravel beneath her feet as she walks slowly to the large, circular platform that stands in the center of the square. Dried blood from a torture she'd rather not know the details of coats the wooden panels like a paint, and a tall wooden pole where nooses are hung juts out from the very edge.

Luna shivers and draws closer to her brother as the approach the platform. Sitting in the center o the raised piece of wood is an ornate throne carved of rich wood with a blue velvet seat and back. On the seat is the crown for the Pope of Fools. The gold for the base is not real and the sparkling gems encrusted within are merely colored glass, but the crown is beautiful and like this years Pope is more than it seems for at the very center of the crown is a real, shining diamond, out shining all of the impostors for miles.

"I worry, my Luna, that they will choose me as their Pope." Gringoire says to his sister, who stares at him as if he has truly gone mad.

"Nonsense, brother, you are quite handsome!" She exclaims and her words are true. Her brother is very a very handsome man with a mane of curly brown locks and tanned, chiseled features that give him a gruff and beautiful appearance.

Luna pretends not to feel hurt when the many women they encounter fawn over his attractiveness. Luna is not usually so jealous, but something changes inside of her when he gives them a smile that should be for her alone.

"I know, Luna. I just enjoy when you say so." Gringoire says with a laugh and Luna shoots him a glare.

Of course he would not be worried of such a thing! Luna sighs, feeling stupid to believe he needed consolation.

"Shall we have a song?" A person in the crowd asks and before very much time passes the entire group of eager spectators are crying for entertainment.

"My Luna, would you?" Pierre asks her and she nods.

"_Bien sûr_." she replies. She walks towards the platform, cringing as she steps on the dried blood and sits down on the short stairs.

"Listen! Listen!" another person shouts when they see her taking the stage. Soon the crowd is quiet and the Muse of the Bard begins.

"**_Je n'aime pas beaucoup,_**  
**_Rester ou de partir,_**  
**_Je n'aime pas beaucoup_**  
**_Quoi qu'il en soit._**

**_Coeurs se durcissent_**  
**_Dans une rue venteuse._**  
**_Lèvres se refroidira_**  
**_Avec le loyer à respecter._**  
**_Donc, si tu m'embrasse,_**  
**_Si nous toucher,_**  
**_Attention foire,_**  
**_Je n'aime pas_**  
**_Très bien._**

**_Je n'aime pas beaucoup,_**  
**_Rester ou de partir,_**  
**_Je n'aime pas beaucoup_**  
**_Quoi qu'il en soit._**

**_Mots sonnent faux_**  
**_Lorsque votre manteau est trop mince_**  
**_Pieds ne valse_**  
**_Lorsque les grottes de toit en_**  
**_Donc, si tu m'embrasse,_**  
**_Si nous toucher,_**  
**_Attention foire,_**  
**_Je n'aime pas beaucoup._**"

People who know the song she sang clap politely while the intelligent members of the group attempt to decode it is meaning. Nevertheless, a rain of Francs pours into Luna's pocket and when she has collected her payment, she walks down off of the stage and towards her brother who smiles at her and puts an arm around her waist.

"Shall we have a dance?!" another spectator shouts and Luna laughs at their constant need for entertainment.

"You shall!" replies a voice. It is gritty and commanding, it stuns the crowd to immediate silence.

When the crowd looks to where the voice came from, which is the stage, no one is there, it speaks again. Luna's eyes widen and she taps Pierre on the shoulder to get his attention. He pays her no heed and continues to watch the people's reactions with a smirk on his lips.

"You shall have La Esmeralda!" Says the voice and at this, the crowd explodes in a deafening, positive din. Luna looks confused but her brother merely pats her hand in a comforting gesture.

At that moment, music comes from nowhere, flooding the square with its upbeat tones and fast rhythm.

"Dance, dance, dance, dance!" the crowd chants as smoke swirls from in front of the crowd. As it clears, the silhouette of a woman can be seen.

"Magic! Sorcery! Witchcraft!" the more superstitious and religious members if the audience exclaim but Luna and Pierre are fascinated as the smoke clears entirely and to woman begins to dance.

Her movements are entrancing, and she flows with the beat from the song as if she has no bones to constrict her. When she turns to face the pair, she gives Luna a wink, making the red haired woman's eyes widen in realization.

"That is the girl from yesterday, the one assaulted by Captain Phoebus!" Luna exclaims to Gringoire, who nods, a smile coming to his face.

"I am never wrong, my Luna. Did I not tell you that she would be unharmed?" he asks her rhetorically. Luna nods in agreement.

"You did." she replies as the woman finishes her dance and the disappears into another cloud of smoke.

When the music comes to a halt, Gringoire bounds up the steps to the platform, raising his arms to signal attention.

"My good people of Paris!" he begins. "My muse and I shall preside over _La Fête de Fous_, we know how it should be done and we know how to entertain!" the crowd cheers at his words and Luna accepts the hand he holds out to her to lead her on stage once again.

"Today we shall choose the one with the ugliest face and give him the power of a king for one day only!"  
More applause fills the square. "But first we must elect our Pope before the celebration can truly begin!" a final round of applause is heard until a hush falls over the crowd.

They all turn to see the dancing Gypsy girl from before walk into the square. The crowd parts, giving her a path to walk and she struts past the people, coming to stand on the platform.

"Behold, la belle Esmeralda, who shall give a kiss to the man crowned today." Luna rolls her eyes at her brothers words. She does not know this woman, and yet already frowns upon how little shame she has. The Muse knows that is she were as beautiful as the Gypsy girl, she would not give away her kisses as if they are dirt.

"But who is that!?" someone from the crowd with a high voice shouts and all look to where they point. Hidden in the shadows is the figure of a man, but Luna notices that he is hunched over. A hand flies to her mouth as she gasps in fear.

He is brought out of the shadows, desperately trying to hide his face, but he cannot hide his ugliness. His head is set in-between his shoulder blades and his left eye is covered by a large wart. A scream rips through the square as he us brought on to the platform.

Luna cannot deny the repulsion she feels towards the man, but still, she found she couldn't laugh at his embarrassment with the rest of the crowd and her brother.

She turns to find she is not alone, La Esmeralda's face is not smiling, she looks as sad as the poor hunchback.

"Citizens!" Gringoire shouts. "Is this not the monster we shall elect as our Pope!?" Luna is shocked, she expected better of him. She glares at his back as he continues to talk.

"Yes! Yes! Crown the bell ringer! Crown Quasimodo!" the crowd cries and Luna looks to the man, who she notices is not much older than she is.

"You poor thing." she whispers. He does not hear her over the jeering of the crowd however, which only heightens her immense anger. It is the next words of her brother that push her over the edge.

"Hunchbacked, lame and one-eyed! He is the ugliest, no competition! He is the one we shall elect!" Luna's mouth drops open. Her left hand curls into a fist ready to deliver a blow that never comes. She glares at her brother but remains in her place. She will talk with him later.

They place the crown on his head and sit him down in the chair. Gringoire calls Esmeralda over, but the coca-skinned Gypsy woman stands firmly in her place. The hunchback -Quasimodo- looks to her with hurt in his eyes and Luna looks away. Gringoire calls her over again but the Bohemian just shakes her head.

"How does it make you feel that I'm so ugly?" Luna turns her head to the new Pope and her eyes widen at his question. The crowd does not cease their laughter or scorn, nor does Esmeralda move from her place as far away from Quasimodo as possible, but Gringoire stops, and turns to look at him. The Bard then looks to Luna, who nods.

It is time.

"You have been granted a wish, Sir." Luna says, as she does every year. "What is it that your heart desires?" Quasimodo looks to her in surprise, and then down at the blood-stained platform, as if deep in thought. When he answers, he does not address the red haired Muse, but the Gypsy who only wishes to get away from him.

"_M'aimeras-tu_, Esmeralda?" Her answer never arrives.

A shout of surprise rips through the crowd as a man dressed in a black robe with a hood pulled up over his head enters the scene. He moves swiftly, climbing the platform to stand above the crows of Parisians who are now stunned to silence.

It is Claude Frollo.

He points to Esmeralda accusingly and then looks to Quasimodo with anger and disgust in his cold, dead eyes. It takes him but two strides to reach the deformed man, and then proceeds to rip the crown of his head, sending it flying to Luna's feet.

"Quasimodo!" He says in a harsh voice. "This girl is a foreigner! She's a Gypsy, a witch!" The Archdeacon is absolutely seething and Luna takes a step back, subconsciously attempting to distance herself from the cruel servant of the Lord. "An animal who prowls barefoot on the cobblestones! It's a mortal sin to look!" Frollo continues to chastise the bell ringer, but then turns to the crowd.

Esmeralda takes this as her time to leave and flees the scene in a flash of exotic, sheer fabric and false gold.

"Be away with you!" Frollo commands to the hoard of peasants. "Or shall I have to call the guard to disperse this gathering?" The men, women and children need no more encouragement; the square is empty in minutes. Luna reaches down and picks up the crowd before running off the platform, heading for the exit to the square. Luna turns to leave, but Gringoire takes her arm, holding a finger to his lips he urges her to listen in on the two men, who are now conversing quietly in an alley nearby.

Frollo finishes and then stalks, off, leaving Quasimodo to turn towards La Notre Dame and head towards the cathedral. Luna looks to Gringoire who begins to walk away in the other direction.

Still clutching the crown, Luna turns towards Notre Dame and follows the hunchback.

* * *

_Footnotes:  
_

**Translation:**

_Arrêter- _Stop

___Bien sûr_- Of course

_M'aimeras-tu_- Will you love me?

**Locations: **

_All locations stated in this chapter have been previously stated in the last one. _

The song is Je N'aime Pas Beaucoup from Cabaret. It is a translation of the English song I Don't Care Much done so by me.

**A/N: Things are really moving along! The part with Esme's kiss is original, and almost all of the spoken dialogue is actually taken from the literal English translations of the songs La Fête des Fous and La Sorciere.**


End file.
